Sammy penned the following as he faces the potential of a third brain surgery:
Dear Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry,
I’m writing to you from my bed at Stanford Hospital, not to sound dramatic, but it feels very fitting that I should start my letter here.
When I was fifteen I had a tumor the size of a small orange removed from my brain. I’m here now, thirteen years later waiting to see if I’m a candidate for a third surgery, this time to stop my seizures.
Before every appointment, before MRI, I went to you to help me prepare myself for what was to come. Whenever my mom hears you on repeat she knows where I have gone in my mind.
My siblings, 12 and 14 years older, started listening to you in high school, so naturally, I started listening to you as a toddler. You became my comfort, my reminder of my sister after she left for college. You were my…
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